


Restitution

by Perfica



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Angst, Drama, Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-01
Updated: 2005-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfica/pseuds/Perfica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone suffers from feelings of inadequacy at one point or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restitution

He'd always known that John would forgive him eventually because, really, it was one simple mistake, and everyone was entitled to make a mistake every now and then, even self-proclaimed and actual geniuses, and ignoring the part where one of his staff had died (and he really didn't want to think about that now, or ever again, if he was to be honest with himself) but the simple fact was that no one could hold a grudge indefinitely, and Elizabeth was back to speaking to him in moderate, friendly tones, and the other scientists had gotten drunk one night, barged into his lab and yelled at him for half an hour then everyone was friends again because all scientists knew that most of the time you had no control over the variables and the death _had_ been a waste, but what a way to go...

...and oh.

John was kissing him.

So Rodney assumed, taking all evidence into consideration, that he had been forgiven, because you didn't stomp into someone's bedroom in the middle of the night, stare at them in that pissed off manner that made your hackles rise and your insults sharp, then push you up against a wall and stick their tongue down your throat unless they meant it.

Forgiveness, that is. Or maybe, restitution.

And Rodney could accept that. He understood repayment, the give and take of power, the implication of equality and god, he should get with the program. Colonel John Sheppard was kissing him, deep and furious and hard, and Rodney knew that it was his burden to take, that maybe Sheppard wanted something out of him in return for his abused trust, and Rodney was okay with that because...

God. John was kissing him.

Rodney shuddered and John pushed in closer. A lean thigh pressed up against his crotch and Rodney shivered again.

"Is this okay?" John asked, lips moving delicately over his ear.

"Yes, yes, more than okay," Rodney said, wrapping his arms around John's waist and pulling him even closer, using the strength of his upper body to squeeze John's chest against his, making their breaths shallow but damn, John was in his arms and panting against his neck, and Rodney had never expected this to happen, not in a light year, not before, but especially not after the incident where once again, his ego had been too big for his stomach and fuck, the man felt good pressed against him, and all of sudden Rodney _wanted_ to pay him back, to thank him for his trust, to apologize for screwing up so monumentally, to try and regain a tiny shred of what they used to have before, the banter, the respect that he'd thought so little of that he didn't realize how much he needed it, craved it when it was gone, craved the quiet admiration of the man trapped in the tight circle of his arms.

"Rodney?"

"Oh, fuck," Rodney said, voice strained as John lowered his head again, tongue flicking against Rodney's open mouth. "Yes. Please."

He became aware of hands moving stealthily up his arms, across his chest, ghosting over his nipples and Rodney gasped, ripping his head out of reach. John's eyes were soft and he was smiling a little, like he was pleased with how things were going.

"Okay, now," Rodney said, stepping forward, twisting, taking the brunt of John's weight into his body as he turned them, slamming John's shoulders against the wall, ripping John's tight T-shirt off and throwing it aside, dropping to his knees, quick-silver fingers undoing belt and pants, pulling them down and aside and wrapping his mouth against the rosy red head of John's erection, dimly hearing John's grunt, sucking hard, once, twice.

"God. Rodney."

He felt a hand land on his shoulder, fingers clenching into material and the other cupping the back of his neck, rubbing up and down to the same beat of Rodney's movements. Rodney opened his eyes and stared at the dark thatch of hair surrounding John's cock, eyes moving up to follow the path over John's ridiculously taut stomach, up again to the delicious spread of hair that covered John's chest. Chest so broad and so strong and...

Fuck. John's cock was in his mouth.

Rodney whimpered and closed his eyes, hand nuzzling between John's spread thighs, rubbing against his balls, kneading them as he drew his tongue in circles over and over again around the crown, feeling John's thighs tense, hearing an unsteady warning and he tightened his mouth, curled his tongue, inhaled deeply through his nose and pushed down, trying to get as much as possible into his mouth at once because god knew if this would ever happen again, and Rodney didn't think he'd ever get this lucky a second time so he was planning on making the most of it and...

John came in his mouth.

Rodney swallowed. Then fell forward, panting heavily against John's spent cock.

The thigh under his ear eventually stopped trembling and he felt John haphazardly pat him on the back, trying to get his attention. Rodney opened bleary eyes and looked up.

"Aren't your knees sore?"

Rodney's brow winkled as he thought. Yeah, he was a bit uncomfortable.

John chuckled and held out his hand. "Come on."

Rodney accepted the hand up and staggered over to his bed, collapsing onto it gratefully. After a moments silence he realized he hadn't heard his door slide close, signaling John's retreat.

"Um...?" he said, lifting his head, staring at John, who was still leaning against the wall, soft, pink dick lying visible in the open V of his pants.

John either didn't notice or didn't care that he was flashing his genitals at Rodney, but after thinking on it further, that seemed to be okay since Rodney had just had said genitals in his mouth, and had been quite happy for that to happen, and probably wouldn't turn down another go at it.

Probably? Who was he kidding?

Even post-orgasm, John's walk was fluid and casual as he pushed Rodney over a bit, sitting on the edge of his bed. The kiss was soft and nice and Rodney thought it was a perfect 'thank you for giving me a blowjob, I've forgiven you, let's be friends again' kiss.

"You look a bit stunned," John said, amused drawl even more pronounced than usual. Rodney always thought his voice sounded like one of those stoic men of 1950's black and white movies, sincere American men like Gary Cooper or Jimmy Stewart or Gregory Peck in 'To Kill A Mockingbird', quiet, decent men who upheld values and could always be trusted to do the right thing. He wasn't positive about the accent because, hell, he was Canadian, and that wasn't as close to America as the rest of the world thought, but he did believe deep down that John was one of the good guys. _The_ good guy. Certainly better than him.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look so surprised," John continued, no doubt unaware of the rambling freak-out that Rodney was indulging in internally. "I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Ah, it's a..." Rodney started, then stopped as John ran his fingers over one nipple then the other, teasing the tips gently until they stood upright, pushing up against the fabric of his shirt. "It's a...ah...a thing."

John chuckled, grin breaking his face open like sunshine through the shield. His hand moved lower, rubbing small circles over Rodney's stomach, catching onto the bottom of his shirt and starting to pull it up. Rodney's hand moved before he even knew it, tightening over John's, stopping the action.

"Rodney?" That puzzled voice, the one that teetered between confused and annoyed.

"Um, you don't have to...that is to say, I certainly wasn't expecting - "

"What." John was frowning. "You weren't expecting what?"

"Reciprocation. I'm grateful that you gave me the chance to make it up to you - "

"Grateful?" Okay. He was definitely annoyed.

"Look," Rodney said, fidgeting a little. "God knows I'd like whatever you wanted to do to me, but I don't expect...I mean, I get it. You've forgiven me. We can be friends again. I'm sorry, I really am sorry that I abused your trust, although technically I didn't abuse it because I had every confidence in my ability to - "

"McKay." Ah. Moving from annoyed to ominous. It was really quite interesting how a drawl could sound so dangerous.

"John, I..." God, this was pathetic. _He_ was being pathetic. What kind of social moron thanked someone for the privilege of giving them a blowjob, then turned down any reciprocal action? He must have suffered a minor brain injury recently, because he was hard and wanting and god, it was _John_ , but he couldn't let him go on purely in the spirit of fair play.

"Rodney, I don't know what's going on that head of yours, like most days, but I'm getting the impression that you think that this," and his fingers tightened around Rodney's hand, "was my oh-so-casual way of telling you that everything's back to being okay between us? That we're...friends?"

"Yes," Rodney nodded quickly, still confused.

"Because I'm so very important that allowing you the chance to suck me off is like, I don't know, conferring some sort of forgiveness? Because I'm so big and you're so insignificant that you'd jump at the chance to do that to me for what...brownie points?"

"No!"

"Well then, explain it to me, 'cause I don't get it."

"It's just that - " and Rodney had to stop and swallow. How could he explain it, when even he didn't get it? "I wanted...to show you how sorry I was."

"So this was some sort of pity fuck?" Rodney opened his mouth to reply and John squeezed his fingers. "You know what I mean. You felt obliged?"

Rodney could feel his mouth twisting and his throat tightening. Fuck, he wasn't going to lose it now. "No. No obligation. I wanted to. I've wanted...I want to. I'm glad that we did."

"We didn't do anything. I got head and you got a clear conscious." John pulled his hands away, burying his forehead into them, sighing. "Fuck, Rodney."

"I'm sorry." Rodney's voice was quiet and he really, really meant it. He wondered how many more seconds it would be before John stormed out of his room. He'd really fucked up this time, fucked it up beyond all recognition, and he didn't know how he was going to fix this. Not only had he come off as bipolar, he'd just shown how needy he was and there was no way in hell that he'd ever have a chance with John after this.

John scrubbed his face harshly. He shook his head. "Move over."

Rodney's eyebrows shot up but he quickly moved, rolling onto his side and balancing carefully, not really believing his eyes as John kicked off his boots and lay facing him. He still hadn't done up his pants. Rodney could see the dark smudge of his pubic hair.

John stared at him.

Rodney cleared his throat. "So, ah, I think - "

"I think you've said enough." John leaned in and was kissing him again, soft, slow kisses that Rodney interpreted as saying 'You're an idiot, but I'll forgive you this once because you've sort of grown on me.'

"John?" It was hard to think when someone was running their fingers through your hair.

"Listen to me," John said, his voice low and earnest and as Atticus Finch as Rodney had ever heard it. "You don't need my forgiveness. This wasn't about payback, and if I didn't understand you as well as I did, not only would I be pissed about how shallow you think I am, but I'd be hurt that you thought I was such a manipulative bastard that I'd even do this sort of thing to a friend. I _like_ you, Rodney."

"You like me?" Rodney understood what the words meant, and he could sort of see how they were applicable to their relationship, but like? John liked him? As a friend? As more than a friend? Rodney hadn't fucked it all up?

"I like you," John repeated, a small grin starting to appear. "I like all of you. Even the annoying bits."

"I have annoying bits?" And really, how was one expected to carry out a coherent conversation when their shirt was being pulled up and over their head, and a large, warm hand was stroking over their stomach?

"Lots of them. But I like them too," John replied, sliding down the bed and pushing his face into Rodney's stomach, kissing low and slow, warmth and wetness spreading languidly across Rodney's skin, sinking in, following the path of his veins.

"I'm not..." Rodney said, aware that he sounded a little panicked. "You're much more attractive then I am. Actually, you're the most attractive person I've ever...I'm not fit or muscular - "

"You're muscular enough where it counts," John said, running the tip of his tongue around Rodney's bellybutton.

" - And my stomach isn't as flat as yours - "

"I like your stomach," John said, proving it giving it a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

" - And I don't think I look good naked, but then, who does really? Naked is such a stupid look for most people, although you, I'm sure you look very nice naked, although nice isn't the word I'm looking for. Hot, that's what I'd say if I had to predict how you'd look naked, but then again you look good in everything and oh god, could I just shut up now before I embarrass myself even more?"

John rested his head on Rodney's stomach, peering up into his eyes. "Rodney, are you trying to tell me in your own unique way that you think I'm physically attractive, and you're worried that I won't find you the same?"

Rodney thought of about a dozen answers and settled on the shortest and most honest.

"Yes."

John closed his eyes, and his face relaxed. His fingers strayed contentedly over Rodney's nipples again. "Do you know how many hours a day I devote to staring at you? Where I stare at you?"

"Um," Rodney stuttered, thinking it was a trick question. "The commissary? You're not in the labs that often - "

"Your chest," John broke in, pinching a nipple. "Your hands. Your ass. Your thighs. Your chin."

"My chin?"

"Your eyes. Your mouth. Oh man, your mouth."

"You like my mouth," Rodney said, and it wasn't a question, it was a revelation.

"Your mouth," John repeated, moving up and stretching out flat over Rodney, dog tags clinking lightly and pressing cold between their chests. His eyes flickered between Rodney's eyes and his mouth. "Your big, loud, uncompromising, tactless - "

"Okay, I get it!"

John grinned and lowered his head, touching their foreheads together. His voice dropped in volume. "I like you, Rodney. I _really_ like you."

"Okay, yes, that's excellent," Rodney said, laughing a little because a weight had been lifted from his chest, he was finally starting to get it and damn, when he processed data and came up with a wrong conclusion, he was way off. "I get it. You like me, you really like me and Sally Fields is suing for copyright, this isn't a pity fuck, there's no need for forgiveness, we're friends again, and all's right with the world."

"Yeah," John said, eyes glinting. "We're friends. I'm glad we're friends, Rodney. I've wanted to be friends with you for a long time."

"Oh," Rodney said, feeling stupid and bubbly and not at all like a serious genius should. "I've, well, I never really expected that you'd - "

"Rodney?" John's voice was back to being serious, although he didn't move his face away. "How do you feel about me?"

Rodney laughed right in his face, loud and grating and probably sounding a little condescending. "I like you, John. I like you too. I really, really - "

"Cool," John said, shutting Rodney up with his mouth.


End file.
